


Saturnalia

by SaberAltered



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: And all the horrible business that comes with it, Bilingual Characters, Caesar's Legion, Character Development, Child Soldiers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, Homophobic Society, Human Sacrifice, OC centric, Post-Death in the Family, Slavery, and with that comes the author’s excessive use of Google Translate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberAltered/pseuds/SaberAltered
Summary: Every year, the Legion celebrates Saturnalia. Faustus reflects on how he’s grown throughout the years.





	1. Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Today is actually the first day of Saturnalia, which is the Roman holiday that set the foundation for how we celebrate Christmas today. So, every day, up until the 23rd, I shall upload a new chapter.
> 
> This fic centers around my Legion OC, Faustus, and how he grows as a Legionary throughout the years. And yes, this fic will get dark at some points. It’s the Legion, for fuck’s sake.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Slavery and human sacrifice.

Faustus remembered his first Saturnalia, mainly because it was the one time the instructor let him and the other boys have any sort of fun. He didn’t yell at them if they made any jokes, and when they ordered him to ‘drop and give them twenty’, he complied. The boys were particularly impressed that he could do twenty pushups with only one hand. All the while, Faustus braced himself for a berating that would never come.

After training, the instructor brought the boys down to the town hall to watch Caesar perform a sacrifice. None of them were allowed to look away as the son of Mars slit a slave’s throat. Faustus resisted the urge to vomit as she flopped lifelessly to the ground, but after that, the boys were ushered to a feast. Caesar was there, as well as the Malpais Legate. There were some common soldiers as well, including Vulpes, Faustus’ brother-in-law. At his side was Carina. Faustus’ sister was still breathtakingly beautiful, with her hair done in an elaborate updo. She still wore the flower pin mom gave her. A little further down the line was their little brother, Manuel, who was seated with the other children who were too young to be trained for combat. Faustus decided that he would go over to catch up with him later.

The feast itself was the best he’d had since he’d been taken by the Legion back in March. There was Bighorner steak, Brahmin cheese, and potatoes on his plate. He ate his dinner a little too quickly, and he had to wait a few minutes for his stomach to settle down. Only when he didn’t feel as if he would puke the moment he got up, did he go over to the priestess’ table.

Manuel beamed when he saw his older brother standing before him, a sight which brought a smile to Faustus’ face. It had been so long since he’d last seen his little brother.

“Hey. _¿Que pasa?_ ” Manuel asked.

“ _El Techo_.” Faustus replied. He silently thanked Jupiter that there was no law in the Legion saying they couldn’t converse in Spanish.

Manuel looked up at the ceiling, and gave it an approving nod. “ _Es un techo muy bonito_.”

Faustus laughed. His little brother was still sarcastic as ever.

They talked about Legion life. Manuel told him about life under the priestesses, and Faustus shared stories from his training. At one point, he looked over in his sister’s direction to see her smiling. She gave a little pinkie wave, before Vulpes stole her attention.

When the feast drew to a close, the boys bid each other farewell, and Faustus rejoined his fellow soldiers-in-training.

They were all excited over the day’s events, and they couldn’t stop talking about their day even after Lights Out. Faustus couldn’t wipe the smile from his face, he was so glad today had happened.

“Is this an annual thing?” Faustus asked his bunkmate, a blonde boy who would later be named Cassius.

“It is, now shut up before we get in trouble.”

Faustus’ grin grew wider. He would get to talk to his brother once a year. And who knows, maybe when he became a Legionary, he would get to talk to Carina as well. He missed his family so, so much, and he felt closer to them today than he had since the Legion came into their lives.

That night, Faustus dreamt that they were all back home, eating dinner at the table. And for once, he could believe that they were all okay.

 


	2. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There is a death in the family this chapter.

That following year, Carina wasn’t at the table. She would never be at the table, because she passed away back in January.

“She was really sick.” Manuel told him at the feast, in their mother tongue. He beckoned for Faustus to come closer, and when he complied, his little brother whispered in his ear. “Vulpes was crying. I saw him.”

The information came as a major surprise. One of the first rules they taught in the Legion was that crying was a sign of weakness, and a Legionary couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not if he didn’t want to get cut down on the spot. How Vulpes could get away with it, Faustus had no idea.

“He didn’t see me, though.” Manuel continued. “But it was still really scary.”

“I bet. Vulpes hardly shows any emotion. It’s like he’s a robot.”

Manuel nodded. A priestess called for his attention.

“Sorry, gotta go. Miss Caelia wants me.”

“I get it. Talk to you whenever I can.” Faustus said with a wave.

He went back over to his table, and reclaimed the empty seat next to Cassius.

“So, that sure was a long conversation.” The blonde boy drawled.

“The priestess overheard us talking about Vulpes. Apparently we can’t say anything bad about the Legionaries.” Faustus explained.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Cassius said as he scraped his potatoes onto Faustus’ plate.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now, shut up and eat my potatoes.”

And Faustus did just that. When he finished, he pushed his plate aside and watched Manuel chit chat with his friend. They seemed to be having a good time, and that was enough for Faustus. As long as Manuel was still okay and happy, he would be able to sleep at night. Losing Carina had been hard enough on them.

Faustus had to force himself to leave the banquet hall at the end of the night. He was afraid that maybe Manuel would get sick within the next year. Maybe he would simply disappear. Anything could happen to him, and the thought of being alone scared Faustus. Well, technically, his cousin Nina may still be alive, but Mars knows where that girl is. So, it’s just Faustus and Manuel, as far as they’re concerned.

Sometimes, Faustus would stay up, wondering what Nina is up to. Maybe she’d ran off with a caravan and not looked back. Or Mars forbid, she’s rotting in a shallow roadside grave. The sappy side of him likes to believe that someone adopted her, and that she was still a little terror. But a boy could only hope.

That night, when he was certain everyone else was asleep, Faustus prayed for the gods to watch over his brother and cousin. He bit his lip to keep himself from uttering a word aloud. When he was satisfied, he rolled over in his bed and went to sleep.


	3. Thirteen

A lot had happened since Faustus had turned thirteen. One, he became a teenager, two, he officially became Faustus, and three, he was hand-picked by Lucius to become one of the Praetorians. Only him and another boy, Brutus, had been chosen from their group. It definitely called for some bragging, but he couldn’t do it around his peers. That would just be asking for trouble. So, when Saturnalia came back around, Faustus approached his little brother, like he did every year.

“I’m going to be a Praetorian.” He said without any preamble.

“Oh, cool. You’re gonna be Caesar’s bodyguard! How’d you do that?” Manuel asked, as he impaled a slice of cheese with his fork.

“Well, at my evaluation, they noticed that I was good at unarmed combat.”

“That’s cool. I don’t know I’m gonna be yet, but I’m excited to get my Roman name. Did you get yours?” Manuel asked.

“I did. My name is now Faustus. It means ‘good luck’.”

“Well, you are kind of lucky. You get to be a Praetorian.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes me kind of lucky.” Faustus said. “How about you? What kind of trouble have you been causing?”

“No trouble.” Manuel replied. “We’ve just been learning about the Great War.”

“Oh, cool. They’re teaching me some techniques for hand to hand combat. Would you like for me to show you a few tricks?”

Manuel shook his head. “I don’t think Miss Caelia would like it if I snuck off.”

Faustus sighed. “Alright. Tell you what. How about when you’re older, I’ll show you our unarmed techniques. Maybe they’ll help you with your evaluation. Does that sound like a deal?”

“Pinkie promise?”

Manuel offered his pinkie, which Faustus took with his own.

“Pinkie promise.”

Once Faustus came back to his table, he was teased to the death about the pinkie swear.

“What are you, five?” Cassius sneered.

“He’s eight years old, cut him some slack, Cass.” Faustus responded.

Cassius dropped the subject, but not without glaring at his friend. Faustus smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

Manuel seemed happy as well. He was chit-chatting with his friends about Mars-knows-what, but every now and again he would wave at his big brother. Faustus would pinkie wave back, just like Carina did. Sometimes, Faustus liked to think that she would have been proud to see that he and Manuel hadn’t drifted apart, after all these years. He’d hoped that maybe this Praetorian thing would work out. More often than not, the newcomers would be stationed outside. Maybe Manuel could come chat with him during his breaks.

Faustus couldn’t stop the grin from breaking on his face. Someday soon, there would be nothing separating the De La Cruz boys. And that was the best Saturnalia present Faustus had gotten at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for clarification: Manuel is five years younger than Faustus, thus making him eight years old.


	4. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: More people are dying, and not everyone is sensitive to it.

Manuel had always been an energetic child, but everyone in the De La Cruz family knew that he had his limits. Sometimes, if it was really hot, he would start wheezing. Or he would start coughing whenever he ran a lot. Shortly before the Legion had come for their town, Manuel had been diagnosed with asthma. He’d been given an inhaler, but there was no way he could take it with him to Flagstaff. It looked too much like Jet. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have much need to exert himself for a while. But unfortunately for him, a while was long enough for everyone to forget about his condition.

And that was what sealed his fate.

Faustus was not given much time to grieve for his brother. He still had to finish up his training, and it was enough to put his emotions on the back burner.

But at this year’s feast, the wound reopened. He almost went over to the recruits’ table, before he looked in that particular direction, and remembered that his brother was gone.

He couldn’t bring himself to want any more of his steak.

“Hey, brother, why the long face?” Brutus’ question snapped Faustus out of his thoughts. They had grown close over the years, being the only two boys of their age group in the Praetorian guard. One was usually able to sense how the other one felt, and tonight made no exception.

“You’re thinking about your brother, aren’t you? Don’t be. He was too weak for the Legion.”

Faustus knew his brother was not weak, but defending his brother would give off the impression that he was sentimental. So instead, he said, “You’re right.”

Faustus went back to eating his steak. He still wasn’t hungry, but at least eating gave him something to do.

When the feast came to a close, Brutus grabbed him by the arm. “I gotta show you something. Come with me.”

Faustus let his fellow Praetorian lead him to their cabin. Brutus opened the locker situated at the foot of his bunk, and pulled out a Vault-Tec bobble head. Faustus couldn’t help but crack a smile at it.

“I remember that.” Faustus said. “One my neighbors used to have one, back before the Legion came.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Brutus poked the Vault Boy’s head, making his head bob back and forth. “He kind of reminds me of you.”

Faustus laughed. “I’m not blonde. Nor do I wear a vault suit.”

“You’ve got similar hair.” Brutus said, ruffling Faustus’ curls. “And you’re always nodding your head at everyone.”

“That’s kind of true. I just nod at you and the newbies.”

Brutus looked at him, then back at the Vault Boy, then back at his friend. “I think you should have it.”

“Nah, you don’t have to, man...” Faustus protested, but Brutus had already set it on the window beside Faustus’ bunk.

“There. It’s yours now. Happy Saturnalia.”

“I don’t even have anything to give you.” Faustus said.

“Look, if you really insist on getting me something, then I would appreciate some boxing tape. If you can’t find that, then don’t worry about it.”

Immediately Faustus checked his locker for any boxing tape. Fortunately for him, he had a new roll waiting for him beneath his other shit. He pulled it out and called for Brutus.

“Catch.” He said before tossing it. Brutus caught it with ease. “I have another one, so don’t worry about paying me back or any of that shit.”

“Thanks, brother.”

“Yep.” Faustus replied as he closed his locker. He then shed his armor, before turning in. “Happy Saturnalia.”

“You too, brother. G’night.”

“Good night.”


	5. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Because Legion society be a bit homophobic (at least when it comes to Legionary/Legionary relationships).

A lot had happened since the Legion had moved to Fortification Hill. One, they’d tried, and failed, to take Hoover Dam. Two, Caesar had the Legate coated in pitch, lit on fire, and thrown into the Grand Canyon. And three, Faustus became a Frumentarius, after Vulpes had offered him a spot there, at that year’s Saturnalia feast.

Of course, Faustus enjoyed the second part way too much. Joshua Graham was responsible for the death of his family. The least Faustus could do was coat him in pitch and push him into the Grand Canyon.  _Karma is real, motherfucker._

Saturnalia had been a little more cheery this year, at least for the Praetorians. They didn’t have to do any of the major fighting, and of course, it was nice, now that the Legate was gone. They were, by far, the loudest table at the feast.

At one point, Brutus nudged Faustus. “Lucius is calling for you,” he said.

Faustus got up, and made his way to Caesar’s table, where Lucius and Vulpes were sitting side by side, talking about something. A wicked smile grew on the latter’s face when he saw Faustus.

“My brother in law. It’s been a while. How fares you?”

“I’m well,” Faustus replied.

“We have a small change in plans,” Lucius began.

“As you may know, Hoover Dam had cost us several good men. The Frumentarii were no exception. Most of the men I have left are mere recruits,” Vulpes explained. “Lucius says you’re a quick learner. How would you like to be one of Caesar’s Frumentarii?”

The first person Faustus thought of was Brutus, who was the most important person in Faustus’ life, barring Lucius, of course. He wouldn’t show it, but he would be devastated.

“Take some time to think about it.” Lucius had told him.

That night, Faustus told Brutus of Vulpes’ offer.

“He’s your brother-in-law, right?”

“Right,” Faustus clarified. “He’s low on men, but I’ll be gone all the time, and it’s not like I’ll be able to go back to being a Praetorian.”

“The selfish part of me wants you to stay,” Brutus said. “But if you want to go with your family, then who am I to keep you from him?”

“You sure you’re okay with this?”

“I’m sure,” Brutus snapped.

“Your tone says otherwise.”

Brutus stepped toward his friend. He grabbed Faustus by the back of his head, and pressed his lips to his.

Faustus had never kissed anyone before. He couldn’t deny that every now and again, he’d had... thoughts about his friend, nor could he deny that he liked this kiss. By the time Brutus had pulled away, his head was spinning. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled Brutus back in for another one. Thank Mars they were alone, because Faustus didn’t know he’d deal with an audience.

“We can’t do this,” he rasped once they’d pulled away from each other. Relationships between Legionaries were typically frowned upon, and Faustus wasn’t willing to risk his friend’s reputation. “ _Fuck_ , I love you, but we can’t do this.”

“Then I think you should go.”

That night, Faustus replayed their conversation over and over in his mind. He thought about his friend’s words, and he tried to think of ways they could even make a relationship work. In the end, he could only draw blanks. The Praetorians could hardly ever keep secrets from one another.

Faustus forced himself up at dawn. He gathered whatever he could, and made his way to Vulpes’ tent.


	6. Seventeen

The following year, Vulpes had called Faustus to his tent.

“Yes, sir?” Faustus had asked once he was inside.

“Come sit with me.”

Faustus complied. “Okay, so... what do you want with me?”

“I didn’t realize that it was a crime to check up on my brother-in-law,” Vulpes replied. He got up and made his way over to a cabinet. He set out two glasses, and produced a bottle of wine. He filled the glasses about halfway, before handing one to Faustus, who was a bit hesitant to accept it. Frumentarii were given a special allowance to drink every now and again, but that didn’t stop Faustus from cringing at the thought of drinking.

“Don’t worry. There’s no one here to punish you for having a little drink.”

Faustus took a small swig, but it was enough to make his face wrinkle in disgust. How anyone could drink this Brahmin piss, he would never know.

Vulpes laughed. “You’ll get used to it eventually.”

“Uh... thanks, I guess?”

Vulpes didn’t respond. Instead, he chose to take another swig from his glass. Faustus followed suit, and regretted it almost immediately after. Maybe one day he’d get used to the taste of alcohol, but today was not one of those days.

“Tell me. How was your first delivery with the Mojave Express?” Vulpes had asked once Faustus recovered.

“Almost ran into a pack of deathclaws on the way back. I was literally about to shit myself.”

“And that’s why you stay away from the I-15. One of our recruits learned that the hard way a few years back,” Vulpes said.

“I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

They continued to drink in silence. Once Vulpes had emptied his glass, he set it down, and cleared his throat. “I have something for you,” He said as he began to sift through his drawers. Faustus moved a little closer to his brother-in-law, and watched him search for whatever he wanted to give to him.

Eventually, Vulpes had pulled out Carina’s flower pin, and held it out for his brother to take.

“It’s the only thing of hers I can bear to part with,” He said in a low voice.

Faustus accepted the flower pin, and examined it. It had bent slightly after years of being under clothes, but other than that, it was exactly as he remembered.

“Thank you,” Faustus said. Thank Mars his voice hadn’t cracked. He missed his sister dearly, and now he felt as if he’d obtained a piece of her. He would have hugged Vulpes, but the fox was never a fan of receiving physical contact. So a ‘thank you’ would have to suffice.

That night, Faustus had set the flower under his pillow, where it would be away from Legion eyes. Ever since that Saturnalia, Faustus had taken the pin out every night to inspect it, more so for his comfort than to make sure it was in tip-top condition, although he did make sure it wasn’t too crinkled. He liked to believe that he would return it to Carina when they reunite in Elysium, and he would smile at the thought of seeing her again, along with the rest of his family.

But for now, he was content with serving the Legion.


	7. Twenty

Even though Caesar’s life was in grave danger, Faustus knew that kidnapping Dr. Arcade Gannon was a huge mistake. He may have been the easiest target, since he was good friends with the Courier, but Faustus knew her better than any other Legionary. _She will come after him_ , he’d tried to warn Vulpes. _And she won’t be peaceful about it._ But his brother-in-law had brushed him off, saying that she was nothing the Praetorians couldn’t handle, and Caesar’s life depended on this brain surgery.

Predictably, Nina stormed the fort about a week after Dr. Gannon arrived. She had even brought her ragtag team of misfits with her, and together, they’d slaughtered almost every Legionary, including Caesar himself. By the time the smoke cleared, only Vulpes and Faustus remained. Faustus had been spared because of his relation to her. The only reason was Vulpes was alive was because of intel reasons, officially. Faustus had a nagging feeling that that wasn’t it, but he was not going to pry.

She had tagged along with him to go get his things, and as they made their way through camp, he tried not to look at any of the corpses littered about. He tried not to think of them as his friends and comrades, but every now again, he would recall a familiar feature, like Cassius’ pale skin, or Brutus’ large frame.

“Was he a friend?” Nina asked when they passed the latter’s mangled body.

“He was,” Faustus replied softly.

“Look, as a General of sorts, I’m not sorry for killing him. But as your cousin, I’m sorry that you’ve lost your friends. I could not have known him like you did. But in war, it doesn’t matter if one is a... somewhat good person or not. The Legion had to go.”

“The Legion was my life,” Faustus said as he got up to face her.

“The Legion was an army of slavers and rapists, and I’m sorry, but I don’t let that shit stand.”

“Need I remind you that most of us hadn’t done either of those things?”

Nina shook her head. “Doesn’t change the fact that all of you allow for those things to happen. In fact, they’re celebrated in the Legion.”

Faustus had no response to that, because she wasn’t wrong.

The walk to his tent was silent after that. Only when they had actually reached the tent did Nina speak.

“I’ll wait out here,” she said, as she took her satchel off of her shoulder. She held it out for Faustus to take. He accepted it from her with a nod.

Faustus entered the small tent, and searched for his belongings, which consisted of his weapons, his bobblehead, and Carina’s flower pin. As he was straightening out the last item, he got an idea. He stored it away in the satchel.

When he stepped out, he said to his cousin, “You know, today was the last day of Saturnalia, which is something we celebrate in the Legion.”

“That explains why the Fort was so easy to take,” she muttered, loud enough that Faustus could hear.

Faustus sucked in a breath and let it out. “Oftentimes, we would present our loved ones with gifts.”

He fished out the flower pin, and presented to his cousin.

“I remember this,” Nina whispered as she took it, and examined it. “It was Carina’s.”

“You remember that?” Faustus asked.

“That dipshit Benny hadn’t wiped out all of my memories. I still remember a few things, here and there,” Nina explained. She looked down at the pin, and went to put it in her hair. “But thank you, Armando. It’s lovely.”

He was about to correct her, and say that his name was Faustus, but there was no point in that, now that the Legion was gone. So instead, he said, “She would have wanted you to have it.”

Before he could tell what was going on, she took him into a hug. It only lasted a moment, but it was long enough to stun him.

“Come on,” She said after breaking off. “We’ve got to go. The stench here is starting to hit me, and soon everyone will wonder where we are. We’ll bury your friends later. But right now, we’ve gotta take out House.”

There was no use in arguing with Nina, especially now that she’d won. So instead, Faustus followed her out of the camp, and bid farewell to his old life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who’ve commented and gave kudos! Y’all are the real MVPs. On that note, happy Saturnalia!


End file.
